


Guns In My Head

by blanched



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, M/M, Mafia AU, Suicide Attempt, Violence, klance, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9484298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanched/pseuds/blanched
Summary: CANCELLED::A modern-day AU in which Lance works in the Altea City Police Department and comes across a certain black-haired boy in need. Soon, the police find themselves going head to head against the Galra mafia, and no one can remain unaffected for long. Shots are fired, people are killed, and war wages around these two desperate for peace.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AYYYY I am total klance trash so its a wonder why this took so long for me to write... I hope you enjoy!  
> .  
> Like it? Hate it? COMMENT WHAT YOU THINK!  
> .  
> Kudos also appreciated :)  
> (but please comment)

      “Allura!” Lance greeted cheerily as he waltzed his way through the Police Commissioner’s office door, all confidence and smiles.

_This time for sure,_ he thought to himself, swaggering over to the woman’s desk. _She’s gonna finally agree to go on a date with me!_

      Allura sighed deeply upon hearing Lance’s voice, and glanced at her clock. Was it that time already? Every single day since Allura hired Lance as an Officer in the Altea City Police Department, he has barged his way into her office at the beginning of his lunch break with some sort of cheesy pickup line or attempt to ask her out. This is the 54th time she has had Lance’s boisterous voice interrupt her thoughts. Doesn’t he know that she has a lot on her plate, as Police Commissioner of a city as large as Altea? There are over 5,000 officers employed by the ACPD, but Lance couldn’t hang out with anyone else but her? Yes, Lance was relatively new, but he was extremely social- instantly talking up a storm with the Technician, Pidge and the prison guard, Hunk. They seemed to be very friendly with one another, so why her?

      “Lance,” Allura said wearily, “This is the 54th time you’ve come in here- which is 54 times too many. If you make it a 55th time, I will not only demote you to parking duty, but I will also…”

_Man,_ Lance thought to himself, oblivious to the fact that Allura was still talking to him. _Even when she’s frowning, she’s beautiful._ Her dark skin made her blue eyes pop in a way Lance didn’t even know was possible. Her silver hair hung in loose curls, cascading all the way down the back of her black pantsuit, which she somehow managed to make look good.

      “LANCE.”

      A voice broke through his thoughts, and he found himself facing a very angry-looking Allura. He found all of his attraction being overshadowed by his fear, because _God damn,_ Allura was scary when she was mad. She was standing in front of Lance, arms crossed and cheeks red in anger. Lance involuntarily took a step back, putting some distance between them.

      “Uh, sorry Allura,” he said slowly. “I didn’t realize how busy you probably were.”

      Allura’s face softened a little bit, and she uncrossed her arms, instead putting them on her hips.

      “It’s alright,” she sighed. “But can you please spend your lunch break in the cafeteria with the rest of the officers? It may not look like it but I have to deal with a lot of stuff, and every hour must have my full attention.”

      Lance tilted his head at her, eyes narrowed slightly.

      “What’s got you so busy?”

      This question was met with a snort from Allura, who raised her hands in a helpless way.

       “What’s got me busy? Other than the fact that we are in charge of keeping over 700,000 lives safe on a daily basis without any breaks or holidays?”

       “Well, yeah- other than that,” Lance shrugged.

      Allura opened her mouth to tell Lance to leave, when she was interrupted by the sound of her door opening again. Both Lance and Allura looked over quickly to the newcomer.

      “Hey Allura-“ Takashi Shirogane- Lieutenant of the Detective Unit- started before he saw Lance.

      “Oh, hey Lance,” he recovered brightly, waving his prosthetic arm in greeting.

      “Hi Shiro!” Lance responded just as brightly, happy that his superior remembered his name in such a short amount of time.

      Shiro obviously had something he wanted to tell Allura, but wasn’t sure whether or not to say it out loud in front of Lance. He shifted awkwardly, left hand lightly slapping a manila file against his leg.

       “Lance was just leaving,” Allura spoke up finally, looking pointedly over at a crestfallen Lance.

      “Aw, come on Allura! I’ve had no action all day; maybe Shiro has something I can help with!”

      “Lance, you are one of our newest recruits. Yes, you do have specialized training- which is great- but that training doesn’t apply to Shiro’s work at all. What he has in that file is totally irrelevant to you.”

      “Then what’s the harm in letting me hear it? Please, Allura! At least let me listen to what he has to say; I’m curious now!”

      Allura hesitated, glancing over at Shiro, who was silently watching the exchange. Shiro locked eyes with Allura, and they seemed to have a mute argument in the spanse of about 3 seconds.  Lance couldn’t tell what the heck was going on between the two, but he was glancing anxiously at them, waiting for a verdict.

      Finally, Allura sighed, her shoulders slouching ever so slightly.

      “Fine,” she groaned. “You win. Lance, you can stay.”

      “Awwww yiss! Shiro, you’re my hero!”

      Shiro chuckled at Lance’s enthusiasm and turned to shut the door behind him.

      “Lance, take a seat,” Allura offered, already plopping back into hers. Lance abided, and took a seat in a small chair in the corner of the room, leaving the main chair to Shiro, who had all the information.

       As soon as Shiro sat down across from Allura, she asked seriously, “What do you have for me?”

      Shiro took in a deep breath and placed the file he held on Allura’s desk, opening it up at the same time. Lance couldn’t see what was in it, but by the narrowing of Allura’s eyes, he knew it wasn’t good.

      “They’re becoming active again,” was all Shiro said, but Allura looked up at him like he told her that the world was ending. Her blue eyes widened and Lance could see the clear distress in them upon hearing Shiro’s words.

      “That’s impossible,” she muttered, more to herself than to Shiro. “We took them down 5 years ago; _you_ took them down 5 years ago. They can’t just be back! All those men are in federal prison for a minimum of 30 years!”

      “I don’t know,” Shiro responded quietly. “Maybe they had another connected network, or some allies that we didn’t know about. But I don’t think these guys are copycats; this is definitely them- I’m sure of it.”

      As Shiro spoke, he rubbed his right shoulder, where his arm connected to his prosthetic. Lance’s mind raced a mile a minute, trying to keep up with the conversation and coming up empty.

      “Uhm… who’s back?” Lance risked asking, even going so far as to raise his hand slightly.

      Allura looked back over to Lance, no longer looking annoyed, but exhausted- as if the last two minutes have taken 10 years from her life. She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

      Shiro jumped to her rescue. He turned in his chair to face Lance and looked at him dead in the eye as he spoke.

      “The Galra mafia,” he began. “A fierce, deadly, ghastly underground organization that was practically running this city 5 years ago. They instilled fear in everyone that lived in Altea, and even neighboring cities as well. They made it their goal to become the public enemy of the ACPD, and they did a very good job.”

      Shiro cleared his throat and glanced to Allura, who was looking down at her hands, deep in thought.

        “Their previous leader, only known as Z, used to be a great friend of the old Commissioner, Alfor- Allura’s father.”

       Lance’s eyes widened as he heard this news, not aware that Allura had a history with the police. Shiro continued after a slight pause, obviously struggling to explain it fully but not too graphically.

      “Z- well- something changed in Z about 10 years ago. He broke off his friendship with Commissioner Alfor and disappeared for a long time. Then a year or two later, he resurfaced- this time as a criminal. He started this underground drug ring, and slowly began to take over the city. Alfor made many attempts to stop the illegal actions but…”

      Shiro glanced once more at Allura, who had not moved an inch.

      “But Z made a direct attack on the police department, and the war began.”

      “What was the act of war?” Lance questioned.

      “He… killed Commissioner Alfor,” Shiro murmered, obviously pained by the memory.

      Lance was stunned into silence. He had no idea that any of this went on in Altea, which was so lively and peaceful when Lance started working at ACPD.

      “How did you bring them down?” Lance wondered. “Allura said you took them down, right? How did you do it?”

       Once again, Shiro reached up to rub his right shoulder subconsciously, hesitating to answer for a few seconds.

      “We were all… heartbroken when Z killed Alfor. At that time, I was a newer member, and I offered up a plan… an infiltration, of the Galra mafia. Basically, I would spend time slowly gaining the trust of the less important members, showing my interest in joining- which worked because the mafia didn’t know me by my face- and I worked my way up. The whole plan took over a year to accomplish, and even with all that planning, it didn’t go exactly well, as you can see.”

      “So that’s what happened? To your arm?”

      “Yeah… I, uh, leaked the location of the headquarters to Allura here and gave them all the information they needed to get into the place and take out all the members. But, the mafia still had some surprises.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “When I became close with the highest ranking members, I met this boy- he couldn’t have been more than 14 years old-“

      “The mafia trained children?!” Lance exploded, aghast.

      Shiro nodded, with a similar emotion behind his dark eyes. “From what I knew, it was only this one boy. I have no idea whose child he was, but he became one of my friends while I was in there. He was such a tough kid…” Shiro broke off, smiling fondly.

      “What happened to him?” Lance dared to question.

      Shiro slowly let the smile fade off of his face as he looked back up to Lance. Over Shiro’s shoulder, Lance saw Allura look up from her hands at Shiro, eyes full of pity.

      “I… don’t know. The day that we took down the headquarters wasn’t going according to plan. Someone that trusted me saw me send in last minute details to Allura and all hell broke loose. It was a miracle I didn’t get killed immediately. Instead they broke the phone I was using to communicate with Allura and chained me to the wall. I guess they were trying to figure out what to do from there. I knew they planned to kill me, but I guess they decided that they might be able to torture some information out of me first…”

      Shiro broke off again, looking down with a pained expression. Lance allowed him his time for reflection, waiting patiently for Shiro to continue. But after almost a minute, Allura decided to continue the story herself.

      “Needless to say, they couldn’t get any information out of Shiro, and luckily we made our attack just hours after. We sent in everyone that we had to take down the Galra and rescue Shiro. But, even Shiro didn’t know that the headquarters was rigged with explosives that would go off if Z triggered them. The entire place went down; we were only able to safely arrest about 30 of the 400 mafia members. Almost 60 of our own men died, and many more were wounded severely.”

      Lance was silent for a minute, trying to imagine the carnage of that day.

      “So that kid…”

      Shiro spoke up from his stupor, looking up fiercely, eyes full of fire.

      “They brought down that building on a young boy- a child. The mafia was made up of monsters, and if my information is correct, this mafia is no different.”

      Lance stood from his seat to approach the desk where the manila folder and its contents were spread out. There were several pictures, some of graffiti, some of men walking in the streets. The gears in his mind were working, and Lance picked up a picture of a man in sunglasses, examining it closely.

       “So you think that out of those 300 guys that were in the headquarters all those years ago,” he started slowly. “Some of them escaped from the collapse and went underground to bide their time until they could restart their organization in the same name?”

      “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Shiro said somberly.

      “Then maybe that kid you were friends with made it out, too.”

       Shiro’s head shot up, staring intently into Lance’s eyes.

       “I would rather have seen him get killed than be dragged back into that brutal life.”

      Lance went silent for a minute, wondering what on earth Shiro witnessed during his time in the mafia.

       Allura took the picture out of Lance’s hands and examined it for a few seconds. Then, she glanced over at him from the top of the picture, then down at the distraught Shiro.

      “Alright, Lance. Was this enough to satisfy you? Shiro and I need to get to work figuring out how to approach this situation- and you are most definitely not needed for that.”

      Lance marveled at how quickly Allura changed back from her beaten down self to her normal, confident and beautiful appearance. However, it didn’t make him any less annoyed.

      “Allura!” he started, spluttering for words. “I can totally help in this!”

      “You aren’t a detective, Lance.”

      “I can be!”

      “You aren’t trained for that.”

      “Then train me!”

      “No.”

      “Allura!”

      Shiro chuckled at the exchange that happened over his shoulder, back to his original self as well, and was about to mention that there was no harm in letting Lance stay when he was interrupted by another new visitor to Allura’s office.

      A ginger mustache stuck its way through the crack in the doorway and Coran peeked in, gripping the doorframe as he leaned through.

      “Allura!” he began cheerily. “You have some mail! Should I bring it all in or is now not a good time?”

      “No, its fine, Coran, thank you.” Allura smiled, and Coran pushed through the doorway, carrying a huge stack of letters and two small packages.

      Allura looked at all the mail and groaned, reaching up to massage her temples.

      “These blasted people just won’t leave me alone, will they?”

      Coran smiled fondly at her as he made his way out of her office. “Sorry, princess. That’s all part of the job.”

      “Ughhh… thank you Coran,” Allura mumbled while picking up all the mail she received and placing it on the floor by the garbage can, making Shiro chuckle again.

      “So Shiro-“ she began, folding her hands on her desk.

      BRINNGGGG BRINNGGGG BRINNGGGG

      “FOR THE LOVE OF QUIZNACK, WILL THESE PEOPLE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?!” Allura burst out, losing all composure as her phone began ringing by her elbow. Shiro began to full-on laugh, a wonderful, light laughter than made Lance crack a smile as well.

      Allura took a moment to take a deep breath and smooth her hair over her shoulders before answering the phone, all business.

      “Hello, Police Commissioner Allura, ACPD.”

      There was a pause as Allura listened to the speaker, her brow furrowing the longer she listened.

      “Well, why are you calling me?” She eventually said, clearly annoyed. Pause.

      “Yes.” Pause.

      “Yes, of course.” Long pause.

      At one point Allura looked up and Shiro to roll her eyes, and she caught Lance’s eyes in the process. She paused for a minute, looking at Lance carefully, then began to smile slowly at him from behind the phone, an idea clearly forming in her head. Lance didn’t like that look at all, and he shifted uncomfortably. Then Allura broke eye contact, looking down at the phone as she spoke.

      “No, don’t bother. I have just the person standing right in front of me now. I’ll send him over now and have a few cars follow him in a few minutes.”

      Lance’s eyes widened in anticipation. Was she talking about him…?

      “Alright, good-bye.”

       Allura hung up the phone and looked up at Lance, who was eagerly awaiting the news.

      “Alright, Lance,” she began slowly, looking at him, deadly serious. “I have a job for you. We have a potential jumper on 27th Street and all of the officers on the scene are not trained in talk-downs like you are. They can assist you once you’re there, but they can’t make a move without your say. I’ll send in more people after you leave but there are almost 20 officers on the scene right now. Are you up for it?”

      Lance, eager for some action, nodded immediately.

      “Alright, go now. I’ll radio you the address once you get on the road; though it shouldn’t be too difficult to find.”

      “Why is that?”

      “The jumper is on the Voltron Conference Building.”

      “The tallest building in the city… I guess this guy really means business.”

      Allura just nodded serenely and Lance left with a wave to both her and Shiro. Shiro returned it kindly, wishing him luck- that made Lance all the more energized.

      He could do this. This is what he was trained to do.

.

      But Lance had no idea what the consequences of going were until much later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance heads to the Conference Center and gets an idea of what he got himself into.

      The Voltron Conference Center was visible from ACPD, so directions weren’t exactly needed. However, Allura insisted on giving Lance the shortest possible route to get to the jumper, even though she assured him there were enough officers on the scene to control the crowds and traffic. As soon as Lance seated himself in his squad car and flicked on the sirens, Allura was on his radio, prepared to give him directions from her office.

      “How many officers are there now?” Lance inquired, remembering she mentioned only about 20 before.

      “There is at least 50 officers on the scene right now. Most of them aren’t qualified to help at all, though. I’d say about 30 of the officers there are only patrollers. But expect more to come; the patrollers don’t get much action. Make the next right.”

      “I know how to get there, Allura,” Lance grumbled under his breath. He swung around the next corner, narrowly missing a jogger.

      “Profile?” he asked, cursing under his breath as he glanced out the rearview mirror to see the angry jogger flipping him off.

      “The jumper appears to be male, but honestly no one has gotten close enough to get more information than that.”

      “How can you not have any more info than that? No one entered the room? No one got a picture? Nothing?”

      “No, Lance. This was just reported a couple minutes ago. The complex is currently evacuating all the hotel rooms and much of the first two floors to let us set up shop. No one has gotten a good picture, and I already told you no one is permitted to even enter the floor that the jumper is on. It may be idiotic, but it is protocol. I suppose you’ll just have to go into this one blind. You’ll be okay with that?”

      “Of course,” he responded haughtily, despite his displeasure at not knowing anything, making sure Allura could picture the smirk on his face. “I talked down 9 people from my last department. I’ve never lost a person yet.”

      “Good,” Allura responded. “Because you might have some troubles with this one. Make the next left and you’ll reach the complex in a mile and a half.”

      Lance did what she said- with less grumbling this time- and considered her words carefully.

      “Why do you say that?” he asked.

      There was a long pause as Allura took in a deep breath from the other side of the call.

      “I’m not sure… I just have a strange feeling about this.”

      Lance was not one to question Allura’s intuition- she was the Police Commissioner, after all. He nodded dumbly before remembering she couldn’t see him.

      “Okay… well, I’ll have someone keep you posted. And I’ll be giving updates from station 6. Thanks, Allura.”

      “Good luck, Lance!”

      Lance pulled into the lot for the Voltron Center, roped off at every entrance with yellow tape. He shut off his radio and sirens as a big, bulky officer pulled up the tape to let Lance’s car pass underneath.

      In normal circumstances, Lance loved the Conference center. It was a huge venue, used for anything you can dream of. Concerts, gambling, seminars, and parties can all be held in the same place- at the same time. The two basement levels were the only floors Lance has actually spent any time in, however- the casino and the club.  When he was first stationed in Altea a few months back, this was the place his new colleagues- Hunk and Pidge- took him for drinks, and it became the first place where he got completely wasted.  From what little he could remember from that night, it was the most fun he’s had in a long time, though Hunk and Pidge would strongly protest.

      Pulling into the usually packed parking lot, Lance turned off his patrol car at the very front, directly in front of the main doors. All of the officers who had arrived before him- minus those who were busy setting up tape or holding back the quickly-expanding crowds- were filed up in the lobby, setting up communications and looking at the cameras surrounding the building, frantically trying to find one that showed the jumper. When the call had been made to Allura about a potential jumper, most of the complex had been evacuated; all of those evacuees were standing at the front of the tape, shielding their eyes from the afternoon sun as they gazed up at the building in anticipation. Lance tried to follow their line of sight, but couldn’t see what they could from his car.

      “Alright,” he muttered to himself, unbuckling his seatbelt. “You got this.”

      With that he shoved open his door and walked with a purpose to the main doors of the complex, where most of the men in blue were hanging about anxiously, without any real task to do. Lance approached a patrol officer he knew to be called Rolo first, desperate to get some sort of information.

      “Hey Rolo!” he called. “What the hell is going on?”

      Rolo turned around and grinned when he saw Lance approach.

      “Excellent, just the man we need right now,” he said, guiding Lance over to the hastily set up communications area. Lance nodded to the head of communications in greeting, and watched as the man’s face lit up in relief.

      “Oh Lance, thank God you’re here,” he sighed. “We just got the mic and recorder online and ready to go.”

      “Thanks, Matt,” Lance responded, taking each respective object in turn. He quickly took off his jacket and allowed the coms team to set up his mic and video recorder before putting he coat back on, hiding all of the wires that now surrounded his torso. Lance understood protocol, but all of these wires and gadgets did nothing to help him talk to the jumper; they were unnecessary to him, even though he knew he was alone in that opinion.

      “Alright,” Matt said after checking Lance’s systems on his tablet. “You’re ready to go! Good luck, Lance.”

      “Thanks, Matt. Talk with me as we go up,” Lance said, targeting this last statement to Rolo, who still stood behind Lance, checking his phone every now and then. Lance impatiently grabbed Rolo’s arm and dragging him to the elevator; Rolo allowed himself to be taken, calling behind him to his partner, Nyma that he’d be upstairs.

       They both entered the elevator and Lance spent a moment looking at the numbers dumbly. He realized that he didn’t even know where in the building this jumper was. _Stupid._

      “Uh… what floor?”

      “Oh,” Rolo grunted. “34.”

      “Holy shit.”

      Lance hit the button for 34 and instantly became a whirlwind of movement and words.

      “Alright in the time we have to get to 34, I need you to tell me everything you know about the situation, what you know about the jumper, what you know about any reasons- all of it. We’re really close on time.”

      As he spoke, he began adjusting his uniform. He unbuckled the belt around his waist that held his badge, his gun, and his taser. The badge he put into his pants pocket, the taser he placed on the ground with his belt, and the gun he…

      He paused.

      He never needed his gun on a routine talk-down before. But was this routine? Between not knowing who it was, the limited knowledge on the situation, and Allura’s bad feeling, this was not a routine talk-down. After a moment of consideration, Lance made sure the safety was on and stuffed the pistol into the back of his waist-band, completely hidden from sight.

      The entire time he did this, Rolo watched in confusion, obviously never being involved in a situation like this before.

      “They trust someone who is unarmed way quicker than someone who is,” Lance explained plainly. “Now, what do you know?”

      “Oh right.” Rolo took out a notepad from the hip of his belt, where a couple notes where taken down in scratchy handwriting.

      “Okay, uhm… the jumper is a male, probably between the ages of 20-25 based on his stature, but no cameras have gotten a good view of his face and he’s been too high up this entire time to even tell.”

      “That’s what Allura has already told me. You guys don’t know anything else by now?”

      “Dude, you’re the first responder here,” Rolo said. “You’re that first look. None of us were even cleared to go into the building without Allura’s explicit consent, much less make our way to his room.”

      “What is floor 34?”

       “Floors from 30 and up are all hotel rooms, so the window this guy is standing out of currently is probably his own hotel room.”

      “Well, what name is the room booked in?”

      “See, that’s where it starts to get interesting-“

      DING.

      Lance looked up at the screen above the elevator door.

      Floor 34.

      “We’re here,” he said quietly.

      Rolo just nodded, a little nervously, and stood aside so that Lance could pass. The 34th floor was just as Rolo said- the corridor they found themselves on looked identical to any other hotel Lance has found himself in, complete with the hideous carpet and outdated wallpaper. From what he could see, there was about 20 suites to his left and a little less to his right. All doors were left ajar- presumably from the mass evacuation. There was only one door that was left closed- room 412.

      “That’s it?” Lance asked, starting to make his way to the door.

      “Yeah,” Rolo muttered, following closely behind. “The head of the complex said that they managed to deactivate the locks on all the hotel suites so unless this guy used the bolt, we should be able to get through without force.”

      “Jumpers never use the bolt,” Lance said. “At least, not in my experience. And _I_ will get in just fine. _You_ will wait out here until I need your help, or until the backup team arrives. And when the backup team arrives, you keep them out here with you until I give permission for them to come in. I know who is on the backup team, and they are some of the most intimidating guys I’ve ever seen. I’m not having them busting in here only to have my guy jump off the building in fear, do you understand?”

      “Yeah,” Rolo responded, a little bewildered. “When backup comes, should I knock or radio you?”

      “Radio me. I’m on station 6 with Allura. Tell backup to get on 6 when they arrive, too.”

      “Will do.”

      Rolo began fiddling with his radio while Lance took in a deep breath.

      “Okay,” Lance breathed out. “I’m going in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this chapter is short and didn't really accomplish much. I just haven't had much time to write with school and all. I promise you guys I haven't dropped this fic and I don't plan to because I have a really elaborate plot set up that i'm excited about. I swear the action all starts next chapter!!!!  
> Please stay with this!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meeting you were all waiting for! But everything isn't what it seems....

     Lance was hit with a blast of cold air as soon as he stepped through the door. The room was a typical hotel room; the bathroom to the immediate left, a bed along the left wall facing a small television on the right side, and a desk that faced the window which used to have a view of the Altean skyline. Instead, Lance's view out of the room was of a boy's back, from his shoulder blades down as he stood precariously on the ledge. He had on a red coat that reached to his navel, with a black t-shirt underneath. He wore fingerless gloves on both hands, revealing long, thin, nimble-looking fingers.

     Another gust of wind entered the room, chilling Lance to the bone. He wondered how on earth this boy remained up on the 34th floor with chilling winds that were powerful enough to knock even Lance off-balance.

    _Whatever,_ Lance thought, inching his way past the bathroom to the bed, _Now is not the time to marvel at the suicidal dude. Now's the time to save his life._

     The first rule Lance learned in his training- in fact, the first rule any officer learned in emergency situations- is not to startle the people you are trying to save. Always make your presence known through visual first, then begin speaking.

     That made matters tough for Lance, as his current target had neither eyes nor ears on Lance. The angle he had on the window blocked the boy's face, and there was no way in hell Lance was going to grab his attention by making physical contact. Lance wasn't stupid enough to even consider that, especially in a situation like this. Most jumpers choose either a medium-sized bridge or a building about 10 stories high to jump off of, because even subconsciously, they are trying to give themselves a shot at survival, even though it really never seems that way. Lance has seen people walk away from jumping off of bridges and buildings, but this time was different. This boy chose the 34th floor with solid concrete below him. There was no intention of survival, which made this situation much more urgent than what Lance previously thought. The boy could jump at any minute, especially if he didn't make his presence known soon.

     Lance pulled out his radio and switched it on to channel 6, receiving the end of something Rolo told to Allura. He didn't particularly have anything crucial to say yet, he just wanted to give himself time to think about how to approach the situation.

    "Hey Allura," Lance started quietly, "Its freaking windy up here. Make sure if you send backup they're extra-"

     "Are you alone?"

     A voice- quiet, but carried by the wind- interrupted Lance mid-sentence. He shot his head up from the radio and looked back at the large window, with the red curtains fluttering majestically in the wind. The curtains seemed to frame the figure of the boy on the ledge, who had turned around and squatted precariously so that his face was at eye-level with Lance. The white collar of his coat whipped up around his neck, contrasting starkly with his jet-black hair, which flew in his face, leaving Lance with only glimpses of what seemed to be purple eyes. The boy's arms rested casually on his knees as he balanced on the balls of his feet. His posture was so calm and relaxed.

     Immediately, Lance knew this talk-down was going to fail.

     Lance knew from experience that the most tense jumpers are the easiest ones to talk down, because the fear-factor is just too strong. But those who seem at ease are very likely to jump, because they have nothing left to lose or fear. The relaxed ones are the hardest to convince, and this boy was very comfortable balancing on this ledge.

     Meanwhile, while Lance ogled at the jumper- and his seemingly impossible ability to hear Lance over the gusting winds- Allura's voice rang from Lance's radio loud and clear, repeating the same thing over and over, getting louder and more distressed.

     "Lance? Lance, are you alright? You cut out... did something happen?"

     Neither Lance or the boy on the ledge moved as Allura's voice made itself heard above the sound of the wind. Finally, the boy cocked his head sideways at Lance and pointed to the radio.

     "Are you gonna answer that?"

     That shook Lance out of his stupor right away. He cleared his throat quickly and immediately responded back into his radio, interrupting Allura in the process.

     "I'm fine. Don't send anyone."

     Then Lance promptly turned the radio off. He didn't need that distraction, and he had already messed up enough in the short time he was up here. He needed to get back into the zone and save this boy from himself, _by himself._

     Lance took a step toward the window after he placed his radio back into his pocket, hands raised to show he wasn't carrying anything.

     "What's your name?" he asked calmly, taking step after slow step to the window.

     The boy paused and considered, as if wondering if he should tell the truth or not. Then, he must have decided he had nothing left to lose and brushed some hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ears and giving Lance another glimpse at his violet eyes.

     "Keith. What's yours, officer?"

     "Ah, you don't need to call me officer. I mean what am I, like 2 years older than you?"

     Keith cocked his head again, and Lance got a small view of a tiny smile behind the boy's hair.

     "I'm 19 years old, but I usually tell people I'm 22."

     Lance let out a friendly laugh, and took a step closer.

     "You know, I think lying about your age is illegal, unless I'm mistaken."

     He had intended to get on good terms with this boy, but upon hearing Lance's laugh, Keith froze and didn't respond. For what felt like an hour- but was really probably less than a minute- Keith stared at Lance. Then, he looked down at his hands with a sigh.

     "You know, Officer Two-Years-Older-Than-Me, you don't have to act like I'm your friend. I know your job is to keep me alive, and that's it."

     Lance was taken aback by that, and he stared at Keith in confusion. He waited for Keith to speak again, patiently, just like he learned to do.

     "I didn't originally come out here to jump, you know," Keith continued. "But, now that I'm out here, seeing all those people down on the street waiting for a show, I'm starting to reconsider."

     Just as he said this, the wind died down for a split second, allowing for Keith's hair to settle, giving Lance a clear view of his face. The boy's milky- white skin was tinged with pink around the cheeks and nose from the cold wind. His eyes- clearly purple now that Lance got a better view- were clouded and distant, as if having a flashback to a bad time. He had dark circles underneath his eyes and very defined cheekbones, which shadowed his face even more. From this angle- only for a split second- Lance looked at Keith, but only saw a dead man. Then, just as quickly, the wind picked up again and Keith's face disappeared behind his whipping hair.

     Lance took a second to recover, finding himself oddly affected by what he just saw. He didn't know why this situation was so different, but it was starting to make him feel uneasy.

     He took a deep breath and another step forward- this time, getting to the desk that Keith must have climbed up on to get onto the ledge.

     "Why did you come up here then, Keith?"

     Keith looked up from his hands and gave Lance a strange look, like he was amused by Lance.

     Instead of answering the question, Keith asked, "Why are you the only one up here?"

     "I'm the only one of the officers present to handle situations like this, Keith. It's just me and you."

     "And about 30 men on the backup squad," Keith added.

     "Well, that's only if I call for the backup squad," Lance admitted. "Though I'm hoping I won't need them today. They're a bunch of assholes, to be honest with you."

     Keith chuckled and stood back up and faced away from Lance again. In a moment of panic, Lance thought he was preparing to jump. However, Keith merely squatted back down and sat on the ledge of the building, legs dangling over the side, swinging like a child's.

     "You seem really comfortable out there," Lance muttered before mentally kicking himself. Even with the wind blowing, he was close enough to Keith for him to hear, especially since he heard Lance's muttering to Allura from across the room. Keith looked back over his shoulder at Lance, cocking an eyebrow.

     "I don't know. I guess it's just not something that ever bothered me."

     Lance stood there dumbly, not knowing how someone can just be comfortable at 34 floors up. While he pondered this, Keith looked down at the parking lot of the Conference Center.

     "More and more of you guys keep coming," Keith said to Lance without turning his head. "Just look how the crowd has grown."

     Lance leaned over the desk to peer out the window down at the street and saw how many people had arrived since Lance entered. More officers were present to keep back the crowds, but now a lot of the aggressive spectators were journalists and news crews who caught wind of the situation. Lance heard Keith's breath catch in his throat.

     "Reporters...." he said, his voice revealing a tinge of panic.

     "What's wrong?" Lance inquired, backing up from the window to look at Keith's distressed face. Keith was staring down at the crowd, at the reporters with the cameras who were struggling to catch a good shot of him. Lance heard Keith's breathing pick up a bit, and saw his shoulders stiffen.

     "They can't be here," Keith said quickly and suddenly, surprising Lance. "They can't be here. They can't get my face on TV."

     "Why not? Its their right to be here, Keith," Lance said cautiously. "They're from the news- freedom of press and all that."

     Abruptly, Keith stood up, back against the window and hands at eye level with Lance. He took notice that they were shaking ever so slightly. The situation was going downhill very, very fast. Lance had to think. Quick.

     "Keith, what's going on? Talk to me. Keith."

     Keith didn't respond, only looked down at the crowds with a newfound terror.

    "Keith, you have to talk to me. I can't help you if you don't talk to me." Keith turned his head toward Lance, eyes wide and unsure.

   "How much can I trust you?" Lance was taken aback by such a question. Even though his thigh was already pressed against the desk, he made an effort too move even closer to Keith, lowering his voice gently and reaching out his left hand to touch the glass.

      "You can trust me, Keith. Just tell me what I can do for you."

      "Those reporters can't get a shot of my face. Then everyone will know..."

     "Keith, if you come inside, they can't get a shot of your face. When we bring you down, we can cover your head, too. If you come with me now, we can prevent anything from happening that you might regret. I promise."

      "No," Keith said, pressing his hands to the sides of the building and the window as if to ground himself. "I have to stay out here until... I just have to stay. You will understand soon, I swear. But for now, I have to stay here."

      "I'll help you out," Lance said, surprising himself with his own willingness to help out this boy. Keith spun around to face Lance head-on, keeping his back to the reporters. His purple eyes were wide and beautiful, and his mouth was parted ever so slightly to show his disbelief.

      "You will?"

     Lance nodded, "Ofcourse I will. That's my job!" Keith smiled ever so slightly and then squatted back down so that he was at eye level with Lance once more. He stuck out his thin hand, and Lance shook it, causing Keith to breathe a sigh of relief.

      "Keith," Lance questioned, "Why don't you want the reporters to get a good shot of you? You would be shocked at the amount of people who come onto buildings and bridges just to get attention."

     Keith pondered this for a second. "In a way, attention is what I'm going after, as well. But not the attention of the press or the people who would watch the news."

      "Then for who?"

      Keith shook his head slightly, closing his eyes, "I can't tell you that. No yet."

      "Well, when can you tell me?" Lance asked, exasperated. Keith once again chuckled, a sound that Lance found himself wanting to hear more and more.

      "I have an idea," Lance said, shocking himself even. "What if we swap jackets? The press wont recognize that jacket, and whoever if watching that you don't want to know, they wouldn't make the connection that it was you."

      Keith looked at Lance in disbelief.

      "That's actually not a bad idea. But all your police friends wouldn't like that idea too much."

      "To hell with them! All they do is follow protocol, they have no creativitiy."

     "Oh, and you're the innovative one, I see."

      "Of course I am! Here, just take my jacket before I change my mind." Lance emptied his pockets onto the desk, placing his radio, gun, and badge gently on the wood surface. Keith eyed the gun with some malice as Lance whipped off his jacket. Upon taking it off, Keith's eyes went to Lance's torso immediately, where he still had the recording device Matt gave him. His eyes darkened and he seemed to pull back from Lance.

     "You really must not trust me. Is that audio and video?" he asked, voice unsure and hesitant.

      Lance, for some reason, didn't even think of lying to him; he was beyond that at this point. "Yeah, it is. But only the police are allowed to look at the recording; I swear to God that we won't let anyone outside of our department look at it, okay?"

     "There's no point in swearing to God," Keith mumbled. "He's not real. And even if he was, he wouldn't listen to people like us."

     "People like us?" Lance asked, curious as to what he meant. Instead of a response, however, Keith just slowly took off his own jacket, hesitating a bit before placing it on top of Lance's items slowly. Lance handed his jacket to Keith through the window, who flung it on over his shoulders against the wind, then stood up and faced the crowds below again. Lance watched him for a second, unsure of what the heck this boy was doing all of this for. Was he doing this because he actually wanted to die? Or was this for a cause? Maybe he just-

     There was a furious banging on the door of the hotel room. The pounding was ferocious, and Lance instantly knew that it wasn't Rolo that was banging; it was the waiting backup squads. He knew how impatient those guys were, and how insensitive they were in situations like this. They wouldn't hesitate to take down that door if they had to, or even if they really didn't. Lance had to let them know he didn't need them yet, but he knew it was too dangerous to leave Keith's side, especially to open the door and let more people into the room without his permission.

      Lance grabbed for his radio on the desk.... only to find that it wasn't there.

     Neither was his badge.

     _Or his gun._

     Lance whipped his head back up to where Keith stood on the ledge, arms tucked up into Lance's jacket pockets.

     "Keith," Lance exclaimed. "What the fuck? Did you take all my shit?"

     Keith, without turning his head, simply nodded.

     "Why do they give you a gun for a suicidal person, officer? Isn't that a little redundant?"

     Lance had no clue who he was talking to; this wasn't the Keith he saw a few seconds ago, who smiled and chuckled with crinkled eyes. Lance stood in a bit of a shock at Keith, while the pounding still echoed in his ears from the door.

     "If I don't tell them otherwise, Keith," Lance started, "They will break down that door to get you. Do you understand?"

     Keith simply nodded. "I know what I'm getting myself into, officer. And this isn't for my benefit; its for yours."

     "What the heck does that-"

      The hotel door busted open with a crack, swinging off its hinges and crashing into the wall. Lance spun around to see 10 heavily armed men enter the small hotel room, with a curious Rolo on their tail. Everyone had their weapons drawn and Lance looked up at Keith, who had turned to look at the commotion over his shoulder. Lance was unsettled to find a small smile on Keith's face; a light Lance didn't notice before glimmered in his eyes and he watched the backup squad inch nearer and nearer to the window.

     "Now," the black-haired boy said, his eyes once again shielded by his hair in a gust of wind. "Let the games begin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter feels like a soap Opera of betrayal and all that but I finally got the complete plot of this fic down so I should be updating more frequently now!


	4. Chapter 4

I'm sorry to disappoint anyone who actually read this fic but I am cancelling any further updates to this.

Partly because I have very limited time, and partly because I was only posting this to test out an idea for a future project.

Thank you for those who have read and I am sorry that I couldn't finish!


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